"You're not a fisherman? Who the hell are you?"

Mulder's guard shot up the moment he got a clear look at the young man's face.

Fishermen who spent their days at sea were usually tanned from the sun, but this one had a fair complexion. It felt a little strange

Noticing something was off, the men behind Mulder drew their blades and fixed their sharp gazes on the fisherman.

The so-called fisherman standing guard wasn't just anyone—it was Dustin, who had been waiting for them all along.

Since his plan was set in motion, he'd been stationed there from morning until midnight. After what felt like an eternity, his targets had finally arrived.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm here to capture you."

Dustin rose from the deck and rolled his shoulders before speaking in an even tone. "If you don't want to die, surrender now. Otherwise, it'll be too late."

"Watch out! It could be an ambush." Mulder swiftly pulled out his dagger. His sharp gaze scanned the surroundings for any sign of hidden troops.